


Chosen

by LadiesLoveLoki



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 16:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3388106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadiesLoveLoki/pseuds/LadiesLoveLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’s been chosen by him.  She silently waits in the bedroom for him to appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chosen

It’s cold in this room. 

You’re standing in front of the fireplace, trying desperately to bask in its warmth, standing as close as you can to it without burning yourself. You cling to the thin silk scarf that you’re using to cover your bare shoulders made so by the dress you’re wearing, but it’s not doing much good.

You’d been chosen. You don’t know how, or why, but you have. You’ve been chosen to be his tonight. Since you walked in, his eyes were only locked on you. 

You could feel him stalking your every move, hovering just out of the edge of your sight, but you knew he was there. His gaze was almost a physical caress on your body.  
In front of everyone else, he was sweet, charming, and absolutely adorable; his inner animal was visible only to you.

Out of all the women who had swooned and fawned and clustered around him, it was your ear that he whispered into. Into YOUR ear that he made plain his desire to have you in his bed. 

It was your neck that his long, long fingers caressed, and his lips brushed. 

Your hips his hands gripped as he held you to him while he gently pulled you away from the party, telling you to ‘go into the room and wait’.

Your earlobe he nipped.

Your body is thrumming from all the attention he’d been giving it throughout the night; playing it as if it were an instrument that he was an expert in handling. Knowing exactly which chords to pluck in order to get the desired effect.

All those thoughts and memories of sensations were swirling in your head so much that you had almost missed the sound of the door opening and closing softly.  
He was here.

You turn, looking up at him. He’s tall, with copper hair, beard and moustache, and almost unnaturally handsome. His eyes, sometimes blue, sometimes green, were looking at you with such fierce, primal intensity that you instinctively backed up a step. The suit he’s wearing is dark, with a dark turquoise shirt underneath his blazer, the collar open and the first two buttons undone. Said suit is tailored to perfection on his lithe form. 

He starts to stalk you, herding you in the direction of the four poster bed that was in the corner of the room, that same look in his eyes; savage…animal. Your back hits one of the posts of the bed, and a slow, evil grin tells you what you already know: you’re trapped…and you’re his.

He moves so quickly that you barely have time to register it. One moment, he’s at least two yards away, and the next his body is pressing against yours, his arms around you and gripping the post so you have nowhere to go. 

That grin…that evil grin that makes liquid heat pool between your thighs…has never left his face. In fact, it’s gotten wider.

“That game, we will play another time, pet”, he purrs. “But now is not the time for the chase.” He grips your hips, and lifting them so that your hips are aligned with his. He delves his hands under your dress and guides your legs to wrap around his waist. He grinds his hardness into your soft core, making you groan. A moment later, his long, long fingers are stroking the fabric covering the aching spot between your thighs. A sharp tug later, and that same fabric is in tatters on the floor. His fingers now start to tease your bare flesh. 

“So wet…and so ready for me”, he whispered. 

You can only whimper in response.

“What was that, darling?” he asked. “I’m sorry…I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

You look up into those eyes, which are now almost black with desire. “Please”, you whimper.

“’Please’ what?” When you whimper, he shakes his head, tutting. “Now, how am I to know what you want if you don’t tell me?” He continues his teasing, stroking his fingers over your burning, aching folds. 

“Please…take me…”

He chuckles, easing first one, then two fingers inside, making you yelp as his fingers begin to move. His thumb searches for, and finds that little hidden, throbbing nub and begins to firmly massage it. 

You cry out rapturously, finally receiving at least some semblance of relief at his touch. You feel his hand at the back of your neck, untying the knot that kept the halter top of your dress together. When the straps come down, he peels the fabric away from your breasts. A moment later, his mouth closes over one of your nipples, sucking, nipping, teasing the hardened bud. 

“T-Tom…Dear god…Please…” you whine, your hips moving against his fingers. You feel his lips curve in a smirk against your flesh. 

“All in good time”, he says, not releasing your nipple. He licks, nips, and kisses his way to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. 

“Ooooh….please”, you plead, clinging to his shoulders. 

He keeps up this torture for a few minutes before growling softly in your ear. His fingers move faster, and his thumb presses down, hard, on that throbbing nub, making you bury your face in his neck, a strangled scream being ripped from you. His fingers keep going as you calm. You feel lethargic; your limbs lead, resting your head on his shoulder. You feel yourself being lifted, and a moment later, your back meets the soft bed. The dress is being slid off your body, and your legs spread wide. He kneels on the bed his eyes hungrily taking in every dip and valley of your body; the only things you’re wearing now are your thigh high stockings, heels, and the jewelry you were wearing, which were a diamond and emerald necklace, with matching earrings and a bracelet and ring. 

You groan, your back arching as his hands begin to explore. Down your neck, over your breasts, over your ribs. A quick rub to that same flesh his fingers had assaulted a scant few moments before, and over your silk clad legs. Your entire body is on fire. Your hands come up to run over his chest….his _still clothed_ chest. You start to unbutton his shirt, finding an undershirt there. Oh no, this wouldn’t do at all. 

He chuckles at your haste to divest him of his clothing. He then helps you; removing his blazer first, then his shirt. He pulls the undershirt over his head, tossing it aside like the rest. He bends over you, pressing his lips to yours in a toe curling kiss as your hands frantically try to undo his belt buckle. The shock of skin against skin is almost more than you can bear.

You feel his hands burying themselves in your hair to wrench your head back, firmly yet gently, to run his lips down your jaw and over your throat, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You almost crow in triumph when you undo his belt buckle and slacks, your fingers finally wrapping around a gloriously long and hard shaft. Its heat soaks into your hand as you stroke, making him bury his head in your neck with a groan.

You whine when he grips your wrists, holding them over your head, and nearly faint when he pulls his belt out of the loopholes of his slacks, and binds your wrists, and attaches the belt to the headboard. His hands grip your hips, making them tilt upward, your thighs spreading as wide as they can go. 

Tom’s eyes are eyeing your exposed flesh like a starving man would eye a steak. Without any sort of preamble, he scoots back and bends, and suddenly, he’s tasting you. The hot blade of his tongue runs up and down your slit, pulling strangled moans and squeaks from the depths of your belly. He keeps up his torture until he finds the little button that his thumb was fondling a few minutes before, and closes his lips over it, giving it a hard suck. 

You cum again with another shriek, as he laps up every single drop of your flowing juices. He doesn’t give you a chance to calm; he straightens, licking his lips as he positions himself between your thighs, and drives himself in. You shriek, yet again, as he rides you hard and fast, his teeth bared in a snarl that makes your inner muscles clench on his length. His fingers are digging into your hips as his own snap back and forth like a piston; there will probably be hand shaped bruises later, but you just DON’T CARE. He can do whatever he wants, just as long as he _doesn’t stop thrusting_. 

He bends so his face is in your neck. He’s panting almost obscenely as his hips continue to ram hard, and that just turns you on even more. Your hips meet every thrust, wanting desperately to free your hands, so you can scratch your nails down his back, but all you can do is helplessly pull on the thick leather strap. Your orgasm is like a speeding train; it’s approaching fast, and you’re powerless to stop it, even if you wanted to.

He growls, still panting, his hips still keeping up their punishing pace. He snarls in your ear. “You want to cum all over me, don’t you, darling? Such a dirty little girl, aren’t you?”

You make a sound which, in hindsight, you are SURE was inhuman when he pulls out. That inhuman sound turns into a yelp when you’re suddenly grabbed by the ankles, and flipped over onto your belly. Your hips are lifted up so that you’re on your knees on the bed, and your cheek is pressed against the pillow. He positions himself, and his hips once again start that merciless pace, his impossibly long fingers biting into your hips in a punishing grip. 

His hips seem to drive the breath right out of you. You feel a hand leave one of your hips to slide over your side, and around to one of your breasts, squeezing and pinching the nipple, making even more sparks shoot throughout your body. He continues this for a few moments before his hand goes higher to bury into your hair. He grabs a fistful and gives it a sharp tug, wrenching your head back. He bends over you again to hiss the dirtiest things in your ear. His voice, combined with what he’s saying, fling you over the edge again, and you cum harder than you ever have, shrieking loud as your inner muscles clamp on his length. His hand leaves your hair, and as you cum, you feel his fingers find that throbbing nub again, and presses down on it, really hard. Just when you thought you had nothing left, you cum again. He does it over and over, making you cum again, and again. 

You can tell he wants to prolong it as much as possible, but with the way his panting has gotten heavier and his groans louder, you know he’s very close. He pounds hard a few more times before he finally roars, his body stiffening as his own orgasm rips through him in an agonizing rush. As his body releases, the hand that was on your hip grips even harder; at first, you thought you’d probably have bruises later, but now you’re absolutely sure of it. His other hand, still having a fistful of your hair, grips and twists. He stays like this for a few moments before his hands release you. 

Both your bodies sag onto the bed, completely spent and limp and sweaty, the scent of your hot and hard fuck still permeating the air. That was not lovemaking, that was not sex. That was pure, raw fucking…and the both of you knew it. 

You barely register that he’s undoing the belt that’s still around your wrists, freeing you from the headboard. Whatever strength you had at the beginning of the night is completely gone now.

He seems to know what you’re thinking, and he chuckles evilly, making your body tingle again. “And the night is still young, pet”, he purrs, kissing that spot behind your ear that always makes you crazy.

You turn onto your back, stretching languidly with a moan of satisfaction, although said satisfaction would not last for long. He moves so that he’s hovering over you, staring down at you for a long moment before he kisses you deeply. You curl your arms around his neck. When he comes up for air, he murmurs. 

“Sorry, darling…we have to go back to the party”, he said.

You try really hard, but you can’t quite hold back your grump, making him chuckle. He takes your hand, and rubs his thumb over the diamond and emerald ring on your finger as he gently massages your wrists, helping you get circulation back into your hands. 

“We can’t very well abandon our own engagement party, can we?” He raises an amused eyebrow at you. 

He’s right, of course. But that doesn’t stop you from grumping. So, after cleaning you up with his handkerchief, the both of you rise off the bed, and with much teasing, tickling and poking, you both manage to dress each other. He raises an impish eyebrow at you as he smooths the skirt of your gown over your hips. 

“What about my underwear?” you ask, looking around. Then you remember he had torn them in his haste.

“No one will know”, he replied, winking. “Besides…I don’t think a bit of…air conditioning…is a bad thing. 

“Says the one who’s properly covered”, you tell him. You just barely hold back a groan as he slowly and deliberately folds the handkerchief, holds it to his nose and inhales slowly, then tucks it into his breast pocket. 

“Who knows”, he says, smirking. “We might be able to sneak off for a bit more fun.” 

“Mmm…perhaps”, you reply, letting him lead you to the door by your hand. He then winds your arm through his. He bends to whisper in your ear just before he opens the door.

“I want to play ‘Hide and Seek’ next”, he purrs, nipping at your ear gently, making you tingle all over.

You can hardly wait.


End file.
